A very Mary Sheikhy Christmas - novella - completed

Chapter Eight

Mary rushed off to have a shower, leaving his shirt on the chair, where she changed into the reindeer leggings and a sloppy Joe that she always wore, ready to get everything prepared for tomorrow, yet seem disinclined. Everything had changed, worrying her lip with her teeth. She didn't ever talk to anyone about her family, even the memories of the past. Couldn't even bear having photos around.

The first year she had come up here, the only way she had coped was through cooking, all through the well wishes and packing up that had transformed into something different, now that would be gone as well. If it hadn't been for Zafeer, she really didn't know how she would've coped.

That was the first proper Christmas meal she had in five years. It was time to open up, finally deal with it. Taking a deep breath, she entered into the main room, as far as the chair, sinking into, finding it hard to breath, pressing a hand against her racing pulsating heart.

A sudden sharp knock jerked Mary out of her chair, leaping to her feet. Her heart caught in her throat, almost choking her. She wasn't expecting anyone until Christmas day, edging towards the window, filling with trepidation. Easing back the lace overlay. Her heart stilled, frozen to the spot at the flashing lights.

No, not again!

Flashes of red and blue lights, seeing them from afar. From another time. The police, who had stood on the other side of the front door. No matter what, one was never prepared for such news. The smile and joy in her had vanished that day, falling into abyss of darkness. Nothing could stop her from falling. Falling into the depth of hell. Five years ago felt like it had been only today. Stuck there, unable to crawl back from the blink.

The worst day of her life.

****

After cleaning everything up properly. Last night had been more of a dumping of everything in the sink. The Pavlova didn't fit in the fridge so shoved into the oven; it had been cold enough to keep it fresh. He pulled it out, not so sure, finding a garbage bag to dump into, then cleaned up the plates and stacked off to the side, wearing her apron rather than that other hideous thing; he was seriously thinking of hunting it down and placed it in with the remains of the desserts from last night.

If only they could see him now? His father probably would pass out. Very undignified for a Prince. His mother would clasp her hands in delight. Always enjoying the small things of life and she would have found it all rather amusing, him dressed up like Santa Claus by proxy. Sparky was once more purring around his ankles, where he scooped up the offending cat.

"I see how it is, feed the cat and all is good." Sparky purred louder, rubbing him under the chin. "That will not make up for biting me. So no more or I might just bite back," he growled, placing the kitten down that skidded across the kitchen floor, slamming into the closed door. Zafeer bit back a smile. Payback.

As if reading his thoughts the kitten hissed. He also realised he needed to confront the one thing he was reluctant to do last night, about telling Mary the truth. He had not wanted to spoil their night or the mood. Also time was running out, they could turn up at any time. He couldn't delay it any longer.

Zafeer exited the kitchen with anticipation. Her answer last night made him doubt if she would accept who he really was. He saw her standing frozen near the window, closing the distance, grabbing his shirt on the way, shrugging on, hanging free, touching her arm. Shocked to see the devastation in her eyes. Deep, dark, depth of hopelessness. She was so still, his heart dropped to the pit of his belly.

He glanced out seeing the flashing lights, having a feeling his time had just come to an end, cursing under his breath, wishing he had told her last night. "Stay here I would see to this." She just stared at him, as if she didn't see him. Another hard knock. "Mary I have to see to this." He went to answer the door, finding a policeman at the door, not quite who expected, yet also acceptable if the word had been sent to search for him, until someone arrived from the palace.